


Violet Hill

by WanderingBandurria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First War with Voldemort, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Smoking, mentions of recreational drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28789734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingBandurria/pseuds/WanderingBandurria
Summary: In the wake of the first war, Sirius apparates at Remus place and asks him to go on a walk with him.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Violet Hill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SongBirdYesterday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongBirdYesterday/gifts).



> Hello! So this fic was inspired by Violet hill from Coldplay. Thanks to SongBirdYesterday for sending it to me as a prompt! And thanks to my lovely beta LikeABellThroughTheNight for giving a look to this.  
> I been meaning to write more first war wolfstar fluff. I still have some other ideas I want to put out there, but this was a unexpected, fantastic and lovely way to do that too.   
> I hope you like this fic! If you spot any mistake in my English, please let me know! English is not my first language and love learning more about this language <3

\---

Sirius apparates in front of his door one afternoon, face devoid of expression, hands shaking. He tries to hide the trembling by putting his hands into his jacket pocket, but Remus still sees them - “Wanna go for a walk?” he says, and Remus can feel his own eye bags mirroring Sirius’, he can feel the sting of pain on his fingers as his bitten-down-till-bloody fingernails get caught on the threads of his worn-out trousers. He should ask, he really should - _what's_ _my favourite chocolate, what psychedelic beverage did we try for the first time at the Potters in the summer of sixth year, what words did Dumbledore use to refer to the war when he first called us into his office to talk about it,_ but the thing is, Remus is _tired_. He's done with fear and anger, and all that is left behind in him is hollowness and bone-deep exhaustion. His feet are on his ratty coffee table that has innumerable scorch marks, and his sweater has a hole in the sleeve that he can’t patch again or the whole thing will end up as a useless pile of dirty, old wool; his kettle is dented beyond repair and all his teacups are chipped, and his hands are so cold, that they feel like they are soaking wet with ice water. 

So he nods, grabs his coat, and follows Sirius.

They walk in silence, gods know for how long. The city is a blur of lights and distant voices, and it's full of a life that they are not a part of, not anymore, maybe not ever - not  _ really _ . Sirius walks by his side in silence, warm and solid and yet, like a ghost of his past self. He’s quiet,  _ oh so quiet _ , and Remus frowns a bit at that, but he keeps on walking, the tiredness seeping into their bones making the moment slide past like a dream.

_ How is James _ , Remus thinks he should ask, because he hasn’t seen him in a month.  _ I’ve missed you _ , he wishes he could say, but his throat gets stuck with the words.  _ Do you have a fag _ , he wants to ask more than anything, wishing he could do it without feeling like a leech. With a cigarette, he could at least warm his face and fingers, since his charms don’t seem to be doing anything to stop the freeze that seems to never leave his skin, his bones, his flesh.

Remus has no idea about the time, but he’s sure it’s late. He doesn’t know where they are going, but he doesn't ask questions and he just keeps walking. They get to a street where every other streetlight seems to be broken, and all human life appears to have vanished. It’s alright, it’s  _ fitting _ , it is what it is. Remus hasn’t been scared of the dark since he turned sixteen and learnt that monsters could come from  _ everywhere _ , even from within his own friends. 

Their shadows elongate and shorten around the lights, and their steps seem to multiply with the echo from the empty streets. 

Sirius is still warm and solid by his side, and not for the first time, Remus wonders about how they fit together - he wonders if they ever really fit, if it wasn’t all an illusion, a dream, a lie he told himself. How their small group of friends worked is still a question he can't answer; how they lived with all the silences stretching between the two of them, and how James and Peter filled their cracks without them even noticing, are questions he’s not sure he’s ready to examine, but that his brain seems intent on forcing upon himself. It’s like he can’t stop his mind, like it’s always on the chase of invisible threads, of painful clues, of ugly half-truths. And still, he wonders, he wonders… 

Without a word, Sirius hands him a cigarette.

“Thank you,” Remus says, because he doesn’t have it in him to even try to protest, to try to act like he has any dignity left to pretend he’s above getting free things from anyone - not only his friends, at this point, but just… anyone.

“Yeah,” Sirius says, lighting up his own cigarette before snapping his fingers in front of Remus’ mouth to light up his small bundle of tobacco.

They keep walking, their steps slowing down as they poof clouds of smoke. 

“I’ve missed you,” Sirius says then, and Remus doesn’t turn to look at him -  _ how could he? How does anyone face Sirius Black? -  _ but he can feel Sirius’ eyes on him, he can feel the intensity, he can feel the shy smile Sirius is giving him. 

“I’ve missed you too,” he answers, barely daring to look at Sirius from the corner of his eye, too afraid of making eye contact, too afraid of what that smile might do to him. He feels something warming up in his chest - it's like the cigarette and the words are slowly burning down the layers of  _ tired, hopeless, shocked, miserable, saddened _ . He can feel a speck of the old, unbeaten love, shaped as Sirius’ shadow, starting to burn again inside his heart, like embers that need the smallest breeze to pick up. 

Sirius changes the cigarette to his left hand, and in the swiftest movement, reaches with his right and grabs Remus’ hand, intertwining their fingers together.

Remus’ heart beats fast, and he has to take another long, long drag of his cigarette to stop himself from doing something stupid, like  _ turning around and kissing Sirius _ , or  _ apparating away _ , or  _ start crying _ . He squeezes Sirius’ fingers back.

Sirius doesn’t let go, and Remus’ heart keeps beating in his ears as they walk in silence, Sirius moving, moving, moving, and Remus following, following, following.

“Can I take you somewhere,” Sirius says then, and it should be a question, but it comes as an affirmation.

“Somewhere?” Remus asks, his heartbeat almost covering the sound of his own voice, because Sirius’ fingers squeeze his.

“Somewhere,” Sirius confirms, nodding.

“Yeah,” Remus manages to say, his breath catching as Sirius stops and turns to look at him. Remus has no option but to turn too and meet those eyes. There's still that shy smile on his lips, and Remus’ stomach does a weird flip just before Sirius pulls them into the void.

They are in a park, Remus thinks. Or maybe the countryside. Or maybe it’s the middle of nowhere. He hasn’t been living in London for long enough to know much of it, to be sure if this is still in the city or not. He can't be sure, not when he has spent half of his time out of school freezing his bones in Scotland with Packs. Maybe it’s not London; the place is dark, but Remus can make out the shadows of some trees and bushes, trembling under the wind and looking grey under the soft yellow of a distant light that also casts shadows over their faces.

Sirius is still holding his hand, although he seems to take pity on Remus as he turns around to look at the grounds, instead of boring holes into his soul. Something seems to break again inside of Remus, because he stays put, looking at Sirius’ profile - pale skin, red tip of his nose, dark hair, ghostly eyes.

The silence stretches between them, and Sirius doesn’t seem to mind. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his breathing is deep. With a start, Remus realizes that at some point, it started snowing - it’s just faint, dusty snow that looks like powder. Somehow, he doesn’t feel cold anymore, not like he felt at home, not like he felt in the streets. The night is still dark and deep and silent, and Remus’ heart longs for  _ something.  _

Sirius turns, and that shy smile is back on his face.

“I think my brother is missing,” he says, and that’s not what Remus was hoping for.

“Oh,” he says, because Sirius doesn’t talk about his family with him - he talks with James, he talked with Euphemia and Fleamont. He doesn’t mention Regulus to Remus, nor Peter - they are excluded from that space.

“Yeah,” Sirius says. “I’m not sure though, it’s not like I can ask my Mother, nor like they are making a public statement,” he adds, still looking at Remus with that almost blank expression.

“I’m sorry,” Remus manages to say in a voice that’s soft and small, and he doesn’t know what else to do, so he squeezes Sirius’ hand, and before he can stop himself, he raises his other hand to brush a snowflake from Sirius’ hair.

Sirius just nods, and looks to the ground. The distant light makes his face look like an old god; maybe like Death hiding under a human mask, and Remus can’t stop looking at him.

“You were gone for a long time,” Sirius says, and it’s yet again a statement, so Remus just nods. Sirius looks up with dark, burning eyes, smiling at Remus’ gesture. Remus is not sure what Sirius sees in his face, but it seems to amuse him. “I missed you,” Sirius says again, and Remus swallows.

“Yeah,” Remus says, because he doesn’t think he can repeat the words again, not while he’s looking at Sirius.

“When are you leaving again?” Sirius asks, and his voice threatens to break.

“In a week,” he answers, and Sirius hums, his eyes sharp and dangerous all of a sudden. Remus is the one that has to look to the ground now, swallowing again.

“Would you go on a date with me when you get back?” Sirius says, and time freezes under Remus’ feet.

“What,” he manages to say, as his eyes shoot up. Sirius looks back at him, and he has that shy half-smile again, maybe a _lovesick_ _half-smile_ , Remus thinks, but the thought threatens to get him into a fit of hysterical laughter, so he abandons that train of thought right away.

“A date,” Sirius repeats, and he squeezes Remus’ fingers, like that helps to bring his point across.

Remus knows his mouth is hanging open, but he can’t do anything about it. He looks at the snowflakes trapped in Sirius’ hair, he looks at his gray, honest eyes, he looks at his mouth - red in the cold, not smiling anymore, almost sad.

“Yeah,” he hears himself croak out, while he feels his heart beating without control. Sirius smiles again. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, and he’s not sure if Sirius can even hear him.

“Yes,” Sirius answers, softly, carefully, like the moment can be broken in any second. His hand comes up to trace Remus' cheekbone. 

Remus nods, and when he inches forward, he’s met halfways by Sirius’ soft, warm, pliant mouth. And when Remus tentatively puts his hands on Sirius’ sides, he feels him exhale shakily against his mouth. And when he puts his forehead against Sirius’, his eyes still closed - just to take a breath, because  _ God, what’s happening _ \- he can feel Sirius smile against his own smile.

“A date then. When I get back. Would you wait for it, even if it takes me a couple of months to be back?” he asks, finally finding his voice.

Sirius’ smile stretches against Remus’ mouth.

“Yes. I can wait for you, Moony,” Sirius answers simply, threading his fingers on the hair on Remus’ nape.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you people liked this! Please let me know if you have any thoughts about this in the comments, I love reading your ideas! I have more first war get together fics so if you liked this you might like to check [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716066), [or this other one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034073).  
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://wanderingbandurria.tumblr.com/) if you wanna give me a follow!


End file.
